


It Began with a Letter

by AldreaAlien



Series: Maxwell Trevelyan [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 17:19:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5674231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AldreaAlien/pseuds/AldreaAlien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whilst Maxwell is still fumbling over whether his feelings towards Dorian would be reciprocated, Mother Giselle gives him a letter she received from Magister Pavus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Began with a Letter

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically lots of in-game dialogue interspersed with my character's narration.

"Here I thought we were just getting to the good part."

Maxwell watched Dorian leave, unable to take his eyes off the mage until he had no choice as the man disappeared behind a bookshelf. _What am I doing?_ He shook his head. The answer there was simple. _Fawning_. Like some foolish adolescent who'd only just figured out what to do with men. That was precisely what he was doing.

And, somehow, he always found himself back here, listening to the man talk. Discussing anything from the differences of the Imperial Chantry to the one he'd grown up with, to rather heated debates on slavery, and even touching on Dorian's family. It was all so different to how he'd lived before becoming a brother at the Ostwick Chantry.

But he couldn't afford to be distracted. He _had_ to focus on… What was he meant to be focusing on? _Corypheus!_ _That's_ what he should turn his attention to: defeating the ancient Magister.

He forced himself into the conscious decision to descend the rotunda stairs. He marched by Solas who looked to be busy doing the Maker knew what. _I need to focus_. Perhaps he should try to avoid Dorian unless he really needed the man's advice.

"Inquisitor," Solas called as Maxwell passed through the lower level of the rotunda. "About the artefact I sensed in the Hinterlands—"

Maxwell absently waved the elf aside. "Another time, Solas. I…" Needed to get his thoughts focused on the important matters. "…need some time alone."

He caught the minute lowering of the mage's brows, before Solas inclined his head. "Of course."

 _Surely talking can't do any harm_. It wasn't as if he'd had much to do with anything directly out of Tevinter and, considering the nature of their opponent, who better to learn such knowledge from than one who'd grown up there. One or two conversations couldn't—

 _No_. He knew himself well enough to know what would happen if he began down that road. He'd start flirting again. True, Dorian didn't appear all that bothered by his overtures, but Maxwell wasn't entirely certain if the mage was that way inclined. What if he wasn't? Maker, it'd be the awkwardness with Cullen all over again. _This is bad_. Had he not learnt from past experiences?

"Your Worship," Mother Giselle called as he exited the rotunda and made for the courtyard. "I need but a moment of your time."

The part of him that'd spent years under the tutelage of the mothers and sisters at the Ostwick Chantry had him swiftly going to her side before the rest of him could catch up. "How may I help, Revered Mother?"

"My lord Inquisitor, it's good of you to speak with me. I have new regarding one of your..." She frowned briefly. "Companions. The Tevinter."

 _Here we go_. He knew Dorian's presence was going to pose a problem. Everyone seemed content to vilify the mage even if he did nothing wrong. "Is that a note of distaste I detect, Mother Giselle?"

"I…" The woman grimaced. "…admit his presence here makes me uncomfortable, Inquisitor, but my feelings are of no importance."

Maxwell quietly tucked that nugget of information away and nodded for her to continue.

"I have been in contact with his family: House Pavus, out of Qarinus. Are you familiar with them?"

Familiar, no. He'd never even heard of the name before meeting Dorian and didn't know why she thought he would've. He wasn't as prominent a figure in the noble circles as some of his family and liked to keep it that way. Being noticed brought unwanted attention, the kind that had his mother clamouring to have him married. No doubt, she was already on the hunt for the right young lady to secure whatever ambitions she had now. "He's mentioned his family," he confided to Mother Giselle. "They don't appear to be on good terms."

The woman bobbed her head and, not for the first time, he wondered how the hat stayed perfectly in place. "Yes, I believe you're correct. The family sent a letter describing the estrangement from their son and pleading for my aid."

 _A member of the Magisterium asks a mother not of the Imperial Chantry for help with their son_. Now that didn't sound the least bit suspicious. Maxwell bit his tongue and let the woman continue.

"They've asked to arrange a meeting. Quietly, without telling him. They fear it's the only way he'll come. Since you seem to be on good terms with the young man, I'd hoped…"

 _Ah_. She wanted him to help in this… deception. "They don't want Dorian to know? That seems odd."

"They believe the young man would refuse, and the letter implies he'd have cause. Yet they are remorseful for whatever came before. This is a chance for dialogue."

If Dorian had cause for leaving, then their desire for secrecy was all the more reason to tell him about the letter. He eyed the piece of paper in the woman's hand. Would she give it up if he expressed his desire to not go along with their intentions?

"There is deceit in bringing the young man to this meeting without his foreknowledge, I know. But… does it not lead to a greater kindness if there is potential for reconciliation?"

Maxwell frowned. _Perhaps_. It depended on a lot of things though. Dorian's feelings on the matter being the main concern. "Just what kind of 'meeting' do they have in mind?" Family or no, he wasn't about to do anything without knowing the consequences.

"I believe they just want to talk, to understand why Dorian felt he had to come here. Somewhere private. Away from Skyhold, but not in Tevinter. You make them nervous, I think. They don't understand why he's with the Inquisition. They want him to come home."

 _That makes sense_. The Maker only knew what his own parents thought about everything that had transpired. If _they knew_. They may even wish the same. But _he_ had no way out. The Anchor made certain of that. "I'd be worried, too, if my son ran off to join some gauche foreigners on a crusade." For that was certainly how Dorian's parents viewed them and their mission.

"So would I, although I suspect there's more to it than either of us understands." Concern, genuine concern, flashed across her face. It jolted another thought free.

"Are you sure this isn't come kind of trap? I mean the secrecy…"

Visible relief took the mother as if she'd been doubtful of her own conclusions. "That did occur to me. What if it is a plot of those mages… the Venatori? Another reason to put this in your hands, Inquisitor. I pray that isn't the case, but if it is, you are far better equipped than I to respond to such treachery."

Maxwell nodded. He would be. "Why would his family contact you?"

Mother Giselle's expression became one of affront. Just for a moment. "Because they don't know you, Inquisitor. I'm not of the Imperial Chantry, but they know what I represent. These are parents concerned about the welfare of their son. How could I not do whatever possible? I would speak to the young man myself, but… he does not care for me." Again, he could only agree. He certainly couldn't see any conversation between Dorian and Mother Giselle going well. "Thus I come to you. If any good can come of this, we must try."

 _Must we?_ He frowned and took the letter from the woman as he considered his options. The decision seemed to be a clear one. "If you think I'm going to trick Dorian into meeting his family…"

The woman sighed. "I feared you might say that. The family will send a retainer to meet the young man at the Redcliffe tavern to take him onward. If he truly does not wish this reunion, he can always end the matter there."

 _That was one thing, at least_. He examined the folded parchment. Just what had they said to make her so eager to deceive Dorian?

"I shall pray you change your mind, Inquisitor. Perhaps their letter will persuade you. If there is any chance of success in this, it behooves us to act."

He bowed his head at the mother, waiting until she'd left the hall before opening the letter…

 _Your Reverence_ , it began. Yes, she'd been truthful about that. _I understand that you feel inadequate to the task of bringing Dorian to a secret meeting_. Well, their judgement there was on target. _Even in the asking, I find it difficult to believe myself. Considering my son has rebuffed all contact, this is the only way._ That didn't bode well for trying to convince Dorian. Just what was his reason for leaving? It couldn't just be not wanting to marry. _I know him; he would be too proud to come if he knew—even just to talk_. _That is all we wish to do. The thought of Dorian in the south, placing himself in the path of such danger, alarms us more than I can express_.

Maxwell's gaze lifted to the throne sitting at the far end of the hall. _Danger_. Yes, what they were attempting did not come without risk. It probably couldn't get more dangerous than fighting a Magister who would be a god with an Archdemon at his beck and call. What would his own parents think of that if they knew?

He turned back to the letter, skimming the last part. _If this somehow succeeds, we have a family retainer at the Vandral Hill watching for Dorian's arrival. He will bring the boy to us, somewhere private. If Dorian utterly refuses to go with him, it ends there… and there is nothing we can do. We are at our wit's end_. _Graciously yours, Magister Halward of House Pavus_.

Well, at least they were willing to leave their son alone if he so chose. But having read the letter, Maxwell was even more certain of his decision to inform Dorian. It wouldn't do to let the man walk blindly into this situation, certainly if he'd been avoiding all contact.

With the letter firmly in hand, he strode back into the rotunda and up the stairs. Best to sort this out now before Mother Giselle tried.

Dorian had returned to his seat nearby, scouring yet another book. The mage glanced up as Maxwell neared, giving one of those damn smiles that made his stomach do all sorts of flips. It'd been years since he'd met a man who had such a sway over him. _I really need to spend a night in prayer_. Maybe two.

"Did you know we're actually related, Inquisitor?" Dorian asked.

Maxwell jerked back. "Related?" he blurted. _To a Tevinter house?_ He wasn't expecting that. Why hadn't he heard of this before?

"Oh, not first cousins or anything like that," the man scoffed. "Can you imagine? You're a Trevelyan, however, and somewhere in the dank nethers of my family tree, there was also a Trevelyan." He stroked his chin, one finger lingering on the little tuft of hair growing there. "Perhaps he was even the one who ventured to Ostwick to establish the branch? We are talking long ago, of course."

 _Interesting_. If that were true, he knew of a few cousins who'd be most intrigued in such a fact. "You know that off the top of your head?" That was almost as impressive as the magic.

"Not the top," Dorian drawled. "Maybe the lower middle or thereabouts. Bloodlines are serious business in Tevinter. You're taught lessons and tested… by strict nannies." He smirked and Maxwell wasn't quite certain how serious he was on that point. "I heard your family mentioned, and I had to go through all the old mnemonics. But yes—there it is. I knew there was a reason we looked so much alike."

He screwed up his nose. Beyond them being both human, he didn't see much of a likeness at all. Not that it mattered. The Tevinter _was_ a rather handsome specimen. "I'd rather we weren't related," he mumbled, his face heating. "That might make _flirting_ awkward."

"Depends on which branch of the family you come from." There was that smile again. And another laugh. The Maker was testing him, he was certain of it. "Regardless, I think we're still good to go—by at least three ages."

Maxwell fingered the letter, considering not telling the mage what he knew. The more he learnt of the man, the more certain he was of there being another, rather personal, reason behind why Dorian had left is homeland. _This is not going to go down well_. But he'd come this far, he had to do it. "Dorian, there's a letter you need to see."

"A letter?" He smirked, his pale eyes glittering with mischief. "Is it a naughty letter? A humorous proposal from some Antivan dowager?"

He sighed. The man's jesting only made it worse. "Not quite." The words practically committed suicide as they fled his mouth. "It's from your father."

"From my father." He spoke in a rush, all humour fleeing his face. "I see." The words came slowly now, all emotion locked away. "And what does Magister Halward want, pray tell?" The man was visibly steeling himself, anticipating pain.

It was agonizing to watch. Maxwell briefly considered calling what he'd said a cruel joke and burning the letter before settling on the truth. "A meeting."

"Show me this letter," Dorian demanded, tearing it from Maxwell's hands before he'd a chance to obey. He read silently for a while, sneering every so often.

Maxwell waited, uncertain if his presence was wanted and certain he shouldn't leave the man alone right now.

"'I know my son'," Dorian finally muttered, waving the letter about. "What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble." He gritted his teeth and mumbled, "This is so typical. I'm willing to bet this 'retainer' is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter."

It was entirely possible. "That would be hard to do while I stood there."

"He expects me to travel with Mother Giselle, although Maker knows why he'd think I would." He frowned, considering. "Let's go. Let's meet this so-called 'family retainer'. If it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. You're good at that. If it's not, I send the man back to my father with the message that he can stick his alarm in his 'wit's end'."

It may be true that he was good at killing people, but he didn't, as a rule, do it without due reason. Just what was the issue between Dorian and his family that he'd think the worst of them? "There seems to be bad blood between you and your family."

Dorian laughed. It wasn't a nice laugh. It was the 'evil Magister' laugh Sera seemed to think all Tevinter mages had. That Maxwell also found it a little bit arousing unnerved him. "Interesting turn of phrase. But you're correct. They don't care for my choices, nor I for theirs."

"Because you wouldn't get married?" he prompted, hoping for a better explanation, but not willing to press too hard. "Because you left?"

"That too."

So there _was_ more to it. He chewed on his bottom lip, mulling over which recourse would be the best. "I think you should meet with this retainer… find out what your family wants." What harm could there possibly be in talking? His father always said that most conflicts could be resolved with a clear head and a little talking. Providing it wasn't the trap Dorian expected.

"I didn't ask what you thought, did I?" Dorian snapped.

Maxwell stepped back. All right, this was definitely too tender a subject. _Best not to push the issue, then_. He went to leave, halting when the mage held up his hand.

"That… was unworthy. I apologize." His gaze dropped to the letter. "There'd be no harm in hearing what this man of my father's has to say." He squared his shoulders, fresh determination moulding his face. "If I don't like it, however, I want to leave."

Such a request was more than fair. "That works for me."

"I wonder how much my father paid this man to wait around just in case I showed?" The mage sighed, all the fight seemingly draining from him. "We'll find out soon enough."

The sooner the better, it would seem. "I'll go inform some of the others, then, and we can—"

"No!" Dorian grabbed his arm, his grip bordering on painful. "I…" He let Maxwell go. "I would rather keep this between as few people as possible."

Maxwell frowned. _Travelling alone with Dorian_. Well, as pleasant as that sounded, it _would_ invite more talk than if they made a brief stop at this tavern whilst engaged in other duties. He considered the tasks situated around Redcliffe. If he required secrecy, there were a few possibilities that could serve as worthy reasons. "Look, Solas knows of some artefact that he believes may be useful. It looks to be close to Redcliffe. I suggest we find this thing and swing by the tavern on the way back. We can bring Cassandra along… in case things go sour." And he was certain that, of all his companions, those two could be the most discreet.

Dorian made quite the show of thinking it over. "Well, the Seeker _is_ good at hitting things. I suppose it couldn't hurt to have her tagging along."

Relief sagged his shoulders. If this _did_ go bad, he really didn't want to be the sole person in the middle. "I'll inform them, then. We'll leave tomorrow at dawn, yes?"

The man wrinkled his nose at the suggestion. "I suppose the sooner we get there the sooner I can be done with this debacle and get back to stopping Corypheus."

Maxwell gripped the mage's bare shoulder reassuringly. "I promise, I'll be there for you if you need me."

"I…" Those pale eyes lifted from his shoulder to meet Maxwell's gaze and, in between one blink and the next, all the sass and bluster that surrounded Dorian fell away. "I'm certain that won't be necessary. But thank you, Inquisitor."

He rolled his eyes. "We've been through this. You're more than welcome to call me Max."

"Permitting the 'evil magister' to be so informal?" His hand lifted, casually toying with his moustache. It did nothing to hide the slight smirk tugging at his lips. "My word, won't tongues wag."

He shrugged. Those wagging tongues couldn't possibly talk more about his friendship with the mage than they already were. There really wasn't much of a scandal to be had out of spending his nights being far too… _academic_ , as his younger sister would say. Some of the topics they nattered about would probably put several of those in the rumour mill to sleep. "I better inform Solas and Cassandra that they need to prepare to leave. I'll see you tomorrow."

A flicker of worry took the mage's face. "Yes. Tomorrow."

Maxwell made his way down the stairs, daring to glance over his shoulder before the man was out of sight. There appeared to be a substantial bit less of the confident persona than there had been before. _All over the mention of his father_. Well, whatever the magister had planned for his son, he'd be there to help stop it.


End file.
